A Widow in Paradise & Suburban Secrets Page 14

  “Do you make a habit of taking vacations with your husband’s best friends?”

  “You mean a couple of weeks ago? We weren’t on vacation. We came down here to try to find out what happened to Roger.”

  “Why would you do that, if you thought he was dead?”

  Dannie stood up. “I still do think he’s dead. I came down here to get the details. And to get your goddamned death certificate so my kids and I don’t have to worry about how we’re going to afford groceries next month.”

  Judy hunched over, writing furiously in her notebook in microscopic handwriting.

  Dannie lunged for her, but Guy grabbed Dannie’s arm and pulled her back down on the bed before Judy noticed.

  Judy looked up from her tiny writing. “Do you know anything about an offshore bank account?”

  A little lightning jolt passed through Dannie as she remembered the phone number to the bank in Costa Rica she’d found at Rose’s house. She forced herself not to look at Guy. “No.”

  “Does the name Randy Jarvis ring a bell?”

  “Nope.”

  But it did. Only, Dannie couldn’t remember where she’d heard it before.

  “How about the name Lisa Lewellyn?” She gave a pointed look at Guy.

  He didn’t flinch.

  “I don’t know a Lisa Lewellyn. Guy’s wife is Lisa Loughran and, as I’m sure you’ve already found out, she and Roger had been having an affair. But I can’t see how that has anything to do with insurance fraud.”

  Judy squinted and scribbled some more, then tucked her pen into the spiral of the notebook.

  “That’s all?” Dannie said.

  “That’s all.”

  “If you’re through, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Guy said. “Dannie’s obviously not feeling well.”

  “Of course.” Judy stuck her notebook back into the straw bag and arranged her hat over her dark hair. “Sorry to have interrupted your evening. You make a nice couple out there on the dance floor.”

  Guy ushered Judy Finch out of the room. Dannie flopped back on the pillow, hardly able to keep her eyes open, but at the same time feeling as if she were wound tighter than the string on a yo-yo.

  “I want to call my kids,” she said.

  “We should talk first—”

  “I just want to call my kids.”

  “Sure. All right.” Guy picked up the phone in the room. “What’s your in-laws’ number?”

  Dannie recited the number as he dialed. He handed her the phone when it rang on the other end.

  “Elizabeth, hi.” Dannie’s voice cracked.

  “Dannie! What did you find out?”

  Dannie choked back the tears. “Nothing yet. Maybe tomorrow. Hey, can I talk to the kids for a minute?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  WHEN SHE HUNG UP, Guy was gone. In fact, he’d left as soon as Elizabeth had answered the phone.

  She had to admit he was polite. The bastard.

  She couldn’t believe what had happened on the beach. How Guy had made excuses for her. How he’d treated her like a crazy person.

  Until Judy Finch had dropped the bomb. Then he was all ears.

  Could it be that they were both right? Was Roger alive? Had he faked his death?

  No, it couldn’t be.

  Officer Palmas had as much as told her it was foul play. Or had he?

  She reviewed their conversation in her mind, and realized he hadn’t really committed to any theory. Was it possible he thought Roger was still alive, too?

  Dannie was wide awake now.

  She paced, twisting a curl between her thumb and forefinger as she listed all the facts she knew.

  One: Roger and Lisa Loughran had been having an affair. That fact was undisputed.

  Two: She’d found counterfeit money in the garage, which she had to assume Roger had known about. Not so coincidentally, Lisa had replaced the money in Guy’s safe with counterfeit.

  Three: Roger allegedly stole money from Jimmy Duke and hid it in an offshore account.

  Four: Someone called a Costa Rican bank from Rose’s home just weeks before Roger died.

  Five: The charter boat captain responsible for the accident that killed Roger was suddenly a wealthy man, at least by Cuatro Blanco standards.

  Six: The insurance company believed Roger might still be alive.

  And finally: Roger’s body had never been found.

  Dannie sat on the end of the bed, tangling her fingers in her hair. None of these facts led her to believe, without a doubt, that Roger had faked his death. There was just no irrefutable evidence.

  There was only her heart, telling her that the man she’d known for more than a dozen years would never do something like this to her. To the family they’d built together.

  The door to the room opened quietly. Guy came in with a foam container in hand. He set it down on the table beside the bed.

  “I brought you something to eat.”

  “Thanks. I’m starving.”

  She opened the container to find fresh pineapple, scrambled egg whites and sliced tomato.

  “Great,” she said with an utter lack of enthusiasm. “Couldn’t you find anything fried?”

  “You need to put something healthy into your body,” Guy said. “But if you’re a good girl and eat everything there, I have a little treat for you.” He pulled a candy bar out of his pocket. “Voilà!”

  “It’s a deal.” Dannie dug in to her food, which was surprisingly tasty considering the lack of fats and sugar. When she’d finished she said, “Okay. Hand it over.”

  Guy tossed her the candy bar. She bit into it as if it was manna from heaven.

  “Wow,” Guy said. “That’s just obscene.”

  “What’s obscene?”

  “The noises you’re making.”

  “I’m making noises?”

  “Sex noises. Over a candy bar.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are. And I’m wishing I was that candy bar.”

  Dannie finished chewing. “Listen, about this afternoon…”

  Guy groaned. “Here come the regrets.”

  “No regrets. Just…let’s put it down to an experience, and leave it at that.”

  “An experience? Dannie, I’m in lo—”

  “Stop! Don’t say it.”

  “But—”

  “I’m serious.” Dannie finished off the candy bar and tossed the wrapper into the trash can. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m really pissed off at you.”

  “At me? Why?”

  “Because of your attitude. You refuse to believe there can be more to the story than what meets the eye. I told you that woman was following me, but you didn’t believe me.”

  “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

  “So why can’t you possibly believe that someone murdered Roger? That he might be dead?”

  “I hate to point this out, but I’m not the only one. The insurance company doesn’t think he’s dead, either.”

  “Because they don’t want to have to write me a check for half a million dollars.”

  Guy sighed. “Do you really believe that?”

  “I do.”

  Guy shook his head. He peeled off the T-shirt he’d been wearing, then started on the buttons of his jeans.

  Dannie bit her lip. Did he have to get undressed here? Right in front of her?

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready for bed. Why?”

  “Where are you going to sleep?”

  Guy looked at the bed.

  “Oh, no. I get the bed. You can sleep over there.” She pointed to the wicker love seat near the sliding glass door to the balcony.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said. “I’ll never fit on that thing. I need a bed.”

  “I guess you should have thought of that when you were making the reservations.”

  “Are you really mad about that? Or are you punishing me
because you’re thinking I might be right about Roger after all?”

  Dannie glared at him.

  “I’m not sleeping on that thing.”

  “Hey, feel free to take a pillow down to the couch in the lobby.”

  Guy put his hands on his hips. “Is that how it’s going to be?”

  “Yep.”

  He stewed in silence for a minute. “Fine. Great. I’ll sleep on the damned love seat.”

  Dannie slid under the covers and pulled off her shorts. Then she unhooked her bra, threading it out from beneath her shirt through the armhole, a trick she’d learned way back when from the movie Flashdance.

  Guy grabbed a pillow and yanked the bedspread off the bed, then dragged them over to the love seat, muttering under his breath. He flashed her a dirty look, which she caught as she turned off the bedside lamp.

  As exhausted as she was, though, she couldn’t sleep.

  Her mind was a centrifuge, sorting thoughts and emotions and theories by how much weight they held.

  Memories of Roger spun to the top. She watched them pass…. Roger at their wedding reception, drunk on shots of Wild Turkey, toasting his new bride. Standing in the kitchen in a suit on his first day of work at Wiser-Crenshaw. Holding the twins, one in each arm, moments after their birth.

  Making out with Lisa Loughran on the videotape from the gym…

  Dannie rolled to her other side.

  Now thoughts of Guy spun into her mind. Guy in his pink shirts. Arguing with him on the airplane. Finding her and Lyle a ride to El Cuello after the hurricane. Dancing with her. Making love to her.

  Bringing her chocolate.

  She hadn’t felt so conflicted about a man since she found out John Travolta was a Scientologist.

  She rolled onto her back, listening to the wicker squeak and groan beneath Guy’s weight as he tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable on the love seat. She almost felt sorry for him.

  Almost.

  She closed her eyes. Tomorrow, come hell or a hurricane, she was going to find out what had happened to her husband.

  GUY WAS IN A FOUL MOOD the next morning as they walked to the ferry after breakfast. For the first time since Dannie had known him, his hair wasn’t perfect.

  She felt a pang of guilt. “I’ll sleep on the love seat tonight.”

  Guy just shook his head.

  They pushed through the throng of sport fishermen on their way to El Cuello for the fishing competition.

  “Where are we going this morning?” Dannie said.

  He unfolded the map he’d been carrying. “Right here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map. “Where the guy I met yesterday said he saw Lisa in that bar, Carlito’s.”

  “Is a bar going to be open at this hour?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

  The ferry docked a couple of miles away from Carlito’s, so they rented another moped.

  The countryside was beautiful. The fog that had gathered in Dannie’s head overnight cleared with the wind in her face and the perfumed scent of the lush greens and tropical flowers that flew past them in a blur.

  As it turned out, Carlito’s was open. There were even customers at the bar.

  As Dannie’s eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a couple of tourists with sunburned noses sipping Bloody Marys, nursing hangovers from the night before. The local drunk, hugging a beer bottle, chattered away in slurred Spanish to the bartender.

  A group of women in housekeeping uniforms, who looked as if they might have just finished their shift at a local hotel, laughed in a corner booth.

  Dannie followed Guy to the long, unembellished bar. The bartender ambled over, smiling in welcome.

  He laid two napkins in front of them. “What you want?”

  “Just pineapple juice for me,” Guy said.

  “Coffee, please,” said Dannie.

  The bartender returned with their order in half a minute. Guy handed him a large bill, and when he came back with the change, Guy pushed the picture of Lisa across the bar. “Have you seen her?”

  The bartender hesitated, then shook his head.

  Guy tapped the bills on the bar. “Take another look.”

  The bartender looked at the money, and then at Guy. Guy nodded.

  “She been in here.”

  Guy straightened. “When?”

  “The day before the hurricane was the last I see her. She drink Toasted Almonds. She with a man.”

  Now Dannie sat up. “What did he look like?”

  The bartender shrugged. Guy pulled another bill out of his wallet and laid it on the bar.

  “He have blond hair. Beard. Earring.”

  Dannie took a deep breath and relaxed back into the seat. Definitely not Roger.

  “Does she live around here?” Guy said.

  The bartender motioned to the drunk, who staggered over. Guy showed him the picture of Lisa while the bartender questioned him in Spanish.

  He mumbled a response before returning to his long-lost beer, greeting it with a big openmouthed kiss.

  “He say she used to come in after scuba diving,” the bartender said.

  “Scuba diving? Where do they scuba dive around here?”

  “Fernando Pico, he give lessons and tours. His boat is docked at the pier.”

  “Thanks.” Guy pushed the money across the bar.

  “Gracias.” The bartender stuffed the money into his pocket. “Take it easy, amigos!”

  FERNANDO PICO WAS HARD to miss.

  As tall as Guy, with long black hair and sexy dark chocolate eyes, he was by far the most gorgeous of all the gorgeous people Dannie had met on Cuatro Blanco. When he shook her hand, she actually giggled.

  Guy shot her an irritated look.

  “We’re looking for someone,” Guy said.

  “Everybody’s looking for somebody, brother.” Fernando’s accent was a cross between Cheech Marin and a California surfer. He winked at Dannie.

  “Yeah, well, we’re looking for someone in particular.” Guy handed Fernando the picture of Lisa.

  Fernando nodded. “I’ve seen her, man. She took lessons from me a while back, and then went out on a couple of my tours after that.”

  “Was she with anyone?”

  Fernando smiled. “Hey. Like I told the other dude who came looking for her, maybe she don’t want anybody to know her business.”

  “Someone else came looking for her?” Guy said. “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “What did he look like?” Dannie asked.

  Fernando held a hand up to his shoulder. “This tall. Light brown hair.”

  “Beard?” Dannie said. “Earring?”

  “No. But he had a scar across his eyebrow. Right here.”

  Dannie and Guy looked at each other.

  “Lyle?” Dannie said.

  “Sounds just like him, doesn’t it?”

  “It can’t be him,” Dannie said. “He didn’t even know Lisa.”

  “Are you sure? We did find his card at Rose’s house.”

  Dannie felt sick to her stomach. “Do you think he followed us here?”

  “I don’t know. But if he got here first, he isn’t following us anymore.”

  “Then maybe we should follow him,” Dannie said. She turned to Fernando. “What else did you tell him?”

  “Not much. She likes to party. She wears expensive clothes. She had her own equipment.”

  “Do you have her address?” Guy asked.

  Fernando shook his head. “I don’t get into all that stuff, man. If somebody wants to dive with me, that’s cool. As long as they’re certified, I don’t care where they live.”

  “You don’t even have a town?” Dannie said. “Please. It could be a matter of life and death.”

  Fernando scratched the back of his neck. “I think she said she lives somewhere on the other side of the island.”

  “Great. That narrows it down.” Guy ran a hand through his hair.

  “Listen, man, go to a place called T
he Tiki in Chipita. Ask for a guy named Paco. He knows everybody on that side of the island.”

  “Great, thanks.” Dannie shook Fernando’s hand again. He held it just a little too long.

  For a minute Dannie considered taking scuba lessons, despite the fact that she hated the ocean.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE TIKI TURNED OUT TO BE a surf shop that had been flattened by the hurricane.

  Not surprising, since it appeared to have consisted of little more than a few sheets of plywood, a thatched roof and a few strings of lights. An old cracked toilet was the only thing still standing amidst the ruins.

  Of course, no one milling about in the town could tell Dannie and Guy where to find Paco. Guy’s typically cool demeanor was rapidly eroding, so Dannie decided it was time to take charge.

  She directed Guy to pull into a little taqueria near the waterfront so they could grab a bite to eat and get out of the scorching midafternoon sun.

  In typical Cuatro Blancan style, it took forever for their food to arrive, so they sipped lemon sodas while they waited.

  “What do you think Lyle is doing on the island?” Guy asked her.

  Dannie chewed on her straw. That was the question of the day, wasn’t it? “I’m guessing the same thing we are. Trying to find out what happened to Roger. And maybe Lisa.”

  “So you think he knew her?”

  She rubbed her eyes. “He told me he didn’t. But honestly, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  “Do you think we should try to find him?”

  “Maybe not. It might be better if he doesn’t know I’m here. Especially here with you.”

  Guy nodded in agreement.

  When their food arrived, they ate in silence. Dannie wondered what their next move should be. Honestly, she wanted to do nothing more than go back to the hotel, get into bed and stay there for the rest of the day. And then she wanted to get on a plane and fly back to Philadelphia.

  She was sick of the heat and the siestas and the searching. Sick of the dead ends. She just wanted to go home and see her kids.

  A bell on the door jingled. A man the size of a jockey, his hair sticking up in all directions, sauntered in.

  “¡Paco! ¿Cómo va?”

  “¡Ay, Paco!”

  “¡Paco! ¿Dónde has estado?”